


your hands the color of a savage harvest

by lzrd



Category: Hotline Miami (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Hawaiian Conflict Era, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 20:24:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6343900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lzrd/pseuds/lzrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>peace during wartime</p>
            </blockquote>





	your hands the color of a savage harvest

**Author's Note:**

> title's from [i crave your mouth, your voice, your hair by pablo neruda](http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-crave-your-mouth-your-voice-your-hair/)

On hour four of their latest mission Jacket's grim mood is starting to take hold of Beard too, unconsciously sending him into agitated hand wringing. They're squatting in the underbrush like assholes, waiting. For something. Neither of them are entirely sure what it is exactly they're waiting for, just that when the others get there all hell will be breaking loose.

Jacket grabs his hands to stop the repetitive motion, refusing eye contact entirely. Beard looks at him askance, but doesn't say anything as Jacket reels his hands in towards his chest. The humid heat of the jungle settles around them heavily like a hand crushing them further into the damp ground; the only thing stirring the air is their slow breathing.

With no other prompting, Jacket starts gently kneading his hands in his own, now actively avoiding looking at him. He ducks his head and focuses his attention on digging his thumbs into Beard's palms, their callouses scraping against each other's.

Beard has a flash of memory of seeing a palmistry diagram walking past one of those new age shops one night, wonders if Jacket's life line cuts off suddenly like his does.

With no chance of seeing his expression, Beard turns his attention instead to Jacket's broad hands grasping at his own paler ones. It's impossibly careful, the way he's easing the tension out of his muscles, tired from constant clenching around his favorite knife, and it's in such stark contrast to the brutality he usually deals out with nonchalance that Beard is momentarily awestruck.

The sound of the humvee throwing gravel up the path behind them breaks the spell and Jacket folds Beard's hands back into his lap with more grace than he would have expected considering the nervous swallow he'd been close enough to see his throat bob for.

When the bootfalls of the others are close enough to hear individually, Beard rises, brushing a clumsy open mouthed kiss across his unfortunately kinda sweaty cheekbone. Grinning when Jacket shivers from the stubble burn, he's already moving towards the others, not looking back. He doesn't have to when he knows Jacket's following close behind.

(He always is)

**Author's Note:**

> this fits in a loose lil sorta continuity i'm buildin w/ And Any Way You Choose Me (We Won't Be Long) and another fic i have in the works hopefully
> 
> ty for all the really nice comments on that fic btw it really meant a lot and made me v happy


End file.
